Of Wolves and Dragons
by YanderePuppet
Summary: Unrelated SephClou oneshots, some of which are unfinished/rocky, but still have... a certain degree of substance...
1. Do it all again, even after everything

A/N: final fantasy belongs to square Enix. I'm just writing this for fun.

Gleipnir: a string used to bind Fenrir when Odin heard the prophecy detailing his death at the wolf's fangs during ragnarok.

Fenrir: wolf child of Loki who is foretold to kill Odin. Also bit off the God of war, Tyr's, hand. (According to the books square published, Cloud named his bike after this wolf.)

Sleipnir: a six legged horse child of Loki that is faster than all other horses. Accurate to the theme of this fanfic, Loki had a males pregnancy and gave birth to this horse himself, then offered it as a gift to Odin.

Jörmungandr: Snake child of Loki who kills Thor during ragnarok. So large that Odin had him banished to the ocean, where he wraps his extensively long bulk around the world, circled around it to bite his own tail.

Hel: humanoid death goddess child of Loki. A beautiful maiden from the waist up, but her legs are rotted corpse flesh. Ruler of Niflheim, the land of the dishonoured dead.

Loki: Norse god of mischief and mayhem. The leading force behind ragnarok, and often seen to be malicious and cunning. Eternal rival of Heimdall, who is pro justice and rightness.

Nidhogg: a giant black dragon who tries to destroy the world tree (Yggdrasil) by eating its roots.

How strange it was to think (at least for him) that in only a year he'd gotten over such heavy losses and replaced both of his former friends with two that were almost closer than the previous had been. That gap, that he could no longer locate in his mind for the bridge over it, between when when Angeal's puppy became just puppy, or subsequently just Zack. Even more confusing was the sudden evolution in his minds eye of that infantry they looks like a chocobo, to Zack's chocobo, to chocobo, to private Strife, to finally just Cloud. He wondered further as he awaited the aforementioned blonde in the basement of the mansion, knowing that the sixteen year old would likely bring him breakfast again without Zack knowing. He assumed it was that the blonde didn't want the raven head to know how _he_ was allowed to loiter near the silver demon's current site of frustration and breakage. Because the blonde was too kind in that way. And that's why, as he selfishly decided in the back of his mind, that it was time for 'just Cloud' to evolve to something more. He wasn't sure what, but he knew he _wanted_ the blonde. His plans for the day could wait until later. Sephiroth held back his chuckle and turned slowly at the sound of approaching footfalls.

"Good morning, Cloud." His voice resonated deeply around the room with the pleasant smell of warm bacon.

"Sorry I'm late-" Cloud began, and he could feel the blush of embarrassment creep across his face under the safety of his green infantry scarf.

"No problem at all." The man interrupted, suddenly closer than he'd gotten during the entire week of similar encounters. Something felt off. "In fact, you're actually three minutes early today." It came out as a purr.

"Really?" The teen asked skeptically. Then he looked at the time on his phone. "Oh..."

"Which is perfect, actually," the man purred, even closer now, looming so imperiously over the blonde's head.

"I-is it?" The blonde felt oddly hot and nervous. Something in the renowned man's tone was putting him on edge. He felt a finger slide down his cheek, to his chin, pulling his face out of the shadow of his scarf. He backed up, his shoulders disappointed and slumped as the cold of the basement wall penetrated his flesh. The man seemed pleased as he pressed almost against him, but not quite touching yet. Imposing, intimidating, and oddly enough, arousing.

"I need you to promise me something." That velvety voice purred against his ear. "Will you?"

"P-promise what?" He asked, fairly intimidated by the sudden closeness (he needed to get away, but he needed to get closer.)

"Promise that you'll stand by me, no matter what occurs, forever." Cloud watched in muted horror and awe as those slit pupils shrank even smaller than usual, and the man's eyes dulled with a silkiness second only to his voice. The situation had yet to fully sink in.

"I-I what?" The blonde babbled in confusion. His face was burning.

"It's fairly simple, Cloud-" the man seemed to cut off as he saw the blonde's expression, some part of which must have struck a chord with some part of a feeling that was more compulsively important than whatever he'd been saying. Cloud wasn't surprised or unsurprised by the sudden pressure of lips on his own, as the taller male pressed that predatory smirk against him in a kiss. It felt good, oddly enough. He found himself kissing back suddenly, as the man finally closed the hair's breadth of a gap between their bodies, pressing flush together with a pleasant roughness. The man pulled his face away as the teen sighed at the loss of contact.

"I never want your eyes to lose that expression." The man purred. "So confused and utterly consumed... So ... _Mine_." The man hummed deeply in content, admiring the blonde's face with an endeared fondness, like one would to the sight of their lover doing something pathetically cute, and pressed their lips together once more- this time sliding his tongue out to taste the blonde's lips. Cloud felt the soft caress of the wet tongue and slowly parted his mouth to allow it passage. There was a strange heat coiled in his gut, a pressure that wasn't normally there, and he knew what it was with certainty as those kisses turned harsher, the man biting him and shoving him erratically to a beat that made sense only to them in those heated moments. The heat in his gut coiled tighter as he felt the man remove both of their clothing, mind staying in the moment as they moved into territory that was more than anything he'd ever experienced. Their bodies came together in ecstasy as they found something in the harsh embraces.

It was only later, after he'd covered his bruised and sore body back with his clothing, and cleaned the evidence of the activity from off of his abdomen, that he realized how odd it was. Sephiroth was never that... Open... Or affectionate. Not only that, but he'd been acting strangely darker. Different. When Zack arrived to find the blonde at his post, Cloud made a point to state as much, but didn't let on to anything else, and Zack seemed very nervous and frantic as he went down to check on their somewhat unstable friend. Cloud however, didn't suspect anything more would happen, so naturally when the silver demon emerged from the basement before Zack, and snatched him up before proceeding to storm out of the door, Cloud became confused. The arms the man ensnared him with were unnecessarily tight. It was almost as though the man meant to trap him, to lock him away. However, Cloud soon found himself on the ground- far away from the houses, and the air held the heavy, putrid stench of smoke and charred flesh. In shocked he watched the burning, watched the man slice through many of the people he'd grown up with, and strangely he felt numb. The anger came later with the realization of what had happened, with the pain of the stab wound in his shoulder, and Zack and Tifa unconscious and bleeding and _dying_ only one room away. It came as he watched the man fall into the acidic green the same color as those madness crazed eyes with that smirk like he'd intended to fall into that mako since he'd entered the reactor. It continued through the pain of the scalpels and the sting of the syringes and the burning glowing painful madness of the tubes, through the coma and the fog and through waking up to find Zack dying on a battlefield of thousands of corpses sent to collect them, he felt that anger through managing to find the train to Midgar, to forgetting Zack ever existed and discovering Tifa alive, and to joining avalanche and meeting then loving Aerith only lose her to the same source of that anger, and the anger didn't leave until they reached the crater and the man exposed the hole in his memory, until the man revealed that the anger had been planted there, that it was was fake- only existent to bring him back to the madness that he knew now for certain wanted to lock him away and keep him and control him. In those moments the anger was replaced with devotion before he could process what occurred, the man manipulating his thoughts and emotions as simply as though he'd been serving tea. And he knew how terribly a part of him craved it even while he despised himself in light of his incapability to control his feelings for the man, in light of his weakness. Then Tifa came and fixed him and the anger returned. He managed to find his resolve again, finish the man once again. But it hurt. It hurt and he grieved for all those he'd lost for two whole years, a disease deteriorating the remainder of his will before the man returned once more, and he was forced to stop him again. This time, he felt fulfilled for a while, actually taking the time to look at the family he had, but while he cared for Tifa, she couldn't compare to either of the people he'd loved before. And soon, he grew worse. He isolated himself once again, this time, finally exhausted with living. He couldn't handle the church anymore now that Aerith had returned fully to the planet and her presence could no longer be felt near the flowers.

That's why, now, he sat against the frigid ice walls in the glacier and reminisced, unaware of the presence that hunted him.

-(page break)

He'd been floating insubstantially around the town for hours. He was angry. Angry for the fact that he'd died twice already, angry with a certain blonde for being why. And yet, he was calm, floating insubstantial and malignant in the heart of the mansion. He'd already spread the stigma to every last one of the hired replacement villagers- hoping, knowing, wanting. Cloud would notice eventually. Oh yes. Half of the youth in the planet were infected. Even some adults had been caught in the swirl of hate and corruption. And soon enough, the blonde himself would be caught up in the volatile embrace of the parasitic disease, and once that happened the blonde would be forced to return to where he belonged. The entity felt a tug of emotion that would have caused him to smirk, if he had a face with which to do so at the moment, upon noticing a familiar presence zooming into town on a motorcycle. It seemed now was the perfect opportunity. He watched from the sidelines as the blonde dismounted his bike, package for delivery held under his arm. The last of the day, if the empty compartment in the motorcycle was anything to go by. He watched the blonde from inside the mansion, smirking mentally as he dipped his consciousness into the boys mind (for to him, Cloud was still a boy, mentally as well as physically. In truth he hadn't aged a day in the past seven years) and found everything he needed to be complete. All those memories he'd lost the the lifestream, including his appearance. He took his form, incorporeally shaped as himself. The blonde felt him. He could tell. Those eyes dulled then brightened, his mind and demeanor distracted as he collected his pay, his stature stiff. Those sapphire blues kept flickering toward the mansion, need and anger and fear and many other unspoken feelings glistening from the bright hue.

( _Come.)_ he urged the blonde. _(Return to me)_ the man that the blonde was doing business with eyed Cloud suspiciously as the blonde clutched his head in pain. He watched as Cloud assured the man that it was merely a headache, distractedly finishing the delivery in a rush. Finally the boy headed his call, almost sprinting to the mansion, actually dashing at full speed once safely in the doors. He smirked now, incapable of feeling his lips twitch, but aware that they had.

" _Good boy._ " He praised as the boy made it downstairs, collapsing on the floor. The blonde flared up in anger.

"Shut up!" Still so indignant about his inability to disobey. He merely enveloped the blonde in his presence, chuckling in amusement as he did so. "How are you even here?" The boy's voice caught.

"Because you needed me." He brushed his lips along the blonde's.

"N-no.." Cloud began, struggling internally as well as physically.

"You called out to me subconsciously, and I couldn't well decline the option to return. Your emotions are what supplied me with the power to do so." He wrapped his mind around the blonde's, the control pleasing as both revenge and as a claim. This was his. This boy, this- it was _his_ and it thought it could leave him. But, ohh no. There was no leaving, no disobeying. Soon enough the blonde would learn as much, learn to do as he was told. He leaned his incorporeal form down to the blonde's ear, as those disbelieving and submissively defiant eyes widened in the process of denial. "Its only natural," he purred against the blonde's ear, "realizing how useless your broken strings are- the realization of how useless you are without me. The panic, the uncertainty. A part of you realized the truth a long time ago, and that part knew what would fix that sudden emptiness, didn't it, _Cloud?"_ He continued. He sent signals to the boy's brain to trigger sensation where his body would have touched the blonde, if it wasn't gone. He kissed the boy that way, a possessive, gentle kiss that was more of a claim, a way to show ownership. Cloud looked up at him conflicted between anger and fear or obedient submission and wanting. Anger won out, as the blonde made a gurgled noise in defiance. He kissed him harder, mashing their hips together roughly, ignoring the fact that he almost went _through_ the blonde instead of pressed against him.

"Get off of me!" Cloud all but shrieked. A memory from his second demise from two years ago surfaced ("let go! Let go let go let go!" As the blonde struggled against the telekinetic force pinning him to the wall. Then the panting and the moaning as he'd forced the blonde to kiss him. Their screams as they realized he was kissing back.)

He vaguely decided that if he'd had his body, his pants would be too tight at the moment. It was no issue currently- no, the issue at this point in time was keeping the blonde pinned under his ghostlike form long enough to do what he'd intended. He stroked the blonde's cheek, the other hand stroking his arm as he mentally assaulted him with the full force of his own anger, turning all the foreign matter in the blonde's body against all the original composition. Anyone else would eventually die, however, Cloud was hardly human anymore. This would just destroy what was left if it succeeded. And then there would be no more morals or inhibitions in their way. And everything would be right.

He wondered, as he lay with his back against the ice, if he should have told them the real reason he left again. But then, it was too difficult, too embarrassing to explain something like this. All the pain and nausea he'd recurringly had everyday in the past few months since the stigma and deep-ground crisis had passed. It had been four months since he'd been cured by the water in the church, yet he still felt the symptoms- or so he'd thought at first. Next came the swelling. A large bulge slowly formed in his abdomen, and was a large source of pain. Then, he noticed while in the bathroom that his genitals were suddenly concave and slimy and felt like ridges of warm flesh inside. It took him a second to get over the shock, but his clothes back on, leave the bar and hop on Fenrir to make his escape. Something that bastard had done to his body turned him into a girl. And he had a bulge that kicked and squirmed where a child would be.

He'd tried to abort it, both by stabbing it out (he was not giving birth to his sworn enemy's evil space alien child, he refused) and by hanging himself. As it turned out, dying was impossible for both of them.

A footfall crunching the ice broke his reverie.

"Well well, I thought this would be more difficult." Something seemed familiar about the voice. And the presence behind it too, for that matter. A remnant then. Three, he realized as he turned, just like last time. But they were different. The one who seemed cruelest was slightly taller than Kadaj had been, hair slightly shorter- dual wielding two wakizashi. The other two were a more massive and bulkier form than Loz had been, the other delicate, long haired, and female? That was interesting.

"I assume this means he's coming back again." Cloud wasted no time getting to the point.

"That would be correct." The female said silkily, a rumbling, seductive purr.

"I'm leaving then." He said, getting up

"You're not going anywhere." The cruelty aspect whispered. Somehow, the new one seemed crueler than Kadaj had been.

"You have to stay with us until it's over, not that you have anywhere to go to the way you are now." The female cooed, stroking his cheek lightly. It was an uncomfortable experience.

"Stay! Stay!" The bulky one yelled childishly.

Cloud slumped back to the walls, head hung and eyes dull with distaste and resignation. Vincent wasn't here to rescue him this time.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves..." The apparent leader drawled.

"Not interested. There's no point regardless." The blonde retorted.

"There is indeed. We were named with you in mind, or so the instincts in my fake form tell me." The leader spoke again. Cloud sneered.

"Did he name you all after toys that are directly controlled? Cause if so, I'm really not interested." The blonde stated drily.

"Hmm..." A chuckle, not as deep or as dark as the man's chuckle was who created these embodiments of himself. "Not quite. I'm Sleipnir." The leader said.

"Hel." The female stated.

"Jörmungandr." The bulky one screeched.

Cloud held back a sardonic smirk.

"I take it your mission of 'babysitting' me is code named 'Gleipnir,'" he began, sighing at the obviousness of the meaning behind their names. He couldn't help laughing at the thought that that made Sephiroth Loki. It certainly did fit in its own way.

He was slowly falling into a routine. A very particular pattern. It had been a month, not necessarily a good month- it wasn't horrible either per say. Different, yes. Confusing, yes. Likely to end in a fairly painful way? Probably.

By this point, he'd formed a routine of staying in bed (if it was five months since the last time he'd fought the man, that meant it was a little over six months since he'd been raped in the mansion. That meant he was six months pregnant) eventually Hel would bring him something for breakfast, he'd refuse to eat it, and she would forcibly shove it down his face. Then he'd sit up and read. If they let him out of bed, he'd walk around and do push-ups, as difficult as they'd become. Add in the occasional puking, and mood swings... And the fact that this stupid baby (that he didn't want) was the child of the man he should hate, who destroyed everything thing he'd cared about before (and was very keen on doing so again,) not only _his_ child, but _his_ twisted offspring with all the psychotic alien DNA of both parents. It didn't help that Cloud knew the child was meant merely for the purpose of being a storehouse of such DNA, just so those three newer remnants could merge with it and bring the hated man back. It irked him that the man had had the foresight to think of this during the stigma plague. It irked him that it brought that unnecessary, unwanted, detrimental respect and admiration and _love_ that had been there once back at its full force. It irked him, because the man's spirit was already in the fetus inside of him, and purposely hurt him when he did anything the man didn't like, or even just because the man felt particularly sadistic for a moment. It irked him, because that voice (so velvety and attention catching and imperious and smooth and manipulative and possessive and controlling and wonderful and frightening as it was) echoed through his mind. It coursed through his frame, dirtying him, corrupting him, _consuming_ him with its terrible, _wondrous, horrifying_ intent, with its misleading softness. The man was slowly, slowly turning him into a trained dog, something loyal and obedient and _mindless_ to a point far beyond just a fault. Even worse, he was allowing it to happen. And Cloud hated himself for it more with each passing day. Hated himself for being weak, for not fighting enough, not resisting, not caring enough- he hated himself because it was not so secret that he enjoyed it, that he wanted it. And that just made the man(except he wasn't a man, but something more, something greater) all the more eager to exert and abuse and force control more and more. He hated it because he all but preened at the man's praises ( _such a good boy.)_. He hated it because he felt guilty and depressed and not good enough if the man chided him ( _Don't ever lie to_ me _again. No never. Foolish child- you are_ mine.) He hated it because he loved it, and loved it because he hated it as much as he hated himself and thereby deserved it because it was something that hurt and stung and _burned_ just like all of the things he'd failed to protect from that man's madness. And he _needed_ it. He needed it and craved it and wanted it and it was all there was anymore.

" _Just a little bit longer. Yes, just three more months and I will be able to claim you again, the way only I can."_ The voice cooed, nearly _purred. "So patient aren't you?"_ it continued.

Cloud swore he could feel fingers stroking his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. He couldn't help the strangled moaning sound that so quietly crept from his parted lips as flash images filled his mind. Things the man wanted. Thing he would be forced to give soon enough. He lay down in his bed (where they'd gotten the bed he had no clue) listening to the voice because it drowned out all other things, all distractions when it came. Now he felt real fingers, cold female fingers on his cheek. The voice hmmmed its pleasure, expressing that it was _so_ close to being real and tangible again. Cloud shuddered when he realized how much he wanted it. He feared he was beginning to fall under the power of Stockholm syndrome. The only person who came into his room was Hel. But she never spoke and he sometimes couldn't see her, because the voice that was Sephiroth (and would be him again soon) insisted he didn't need distractions. That distractions made him defiant. That they made him _bad_ , because (the voice insisted) he didn't have the will to disobey on his own, that it was all _them_ , his friends. But if he referred to them as such, the voice would punish him. So they weren't friends anymore. Just _them, they, those people_ \- because he would never say anything to anger the voice. No, because he belonged to it. _Belonged._

" _Yes, that's right. Good boy. Mine."_ The voice purred. He mentally tried to scoot closer to the voice, the want and the need so strongly overpowered everything else. But he couldn't. He couldn't because he was alone, and it was only a voice right now.

Vincent slowly edged closer. They'd been searching for Cloud for several weeks, finally deciding that him being away for five months was definitely something to be afraid of. They'd already been searching for three. And so, he crouched here, in the bushes boardering the edge of the forgotten city (because that was were Cloud had apparently been taken) with Nanaki and Tifa flanking him on each side, Cait on his shoulder, and Cid following behind. Barret and Yuffie behind the foul mouthed pilot. Vincent flinched, hearing cries ringout from the house. It sounded like Cloud.. But... Higher? It was a distinctly more feminine voice than the blonde, yet it was unmistakable. And it sounded so similar to... ! _(brown hair let loose from its ponytail, hazel eyes concentrated and in pain, the sound of monitors and the sterile smell of a lab, her legs spread under a sheet as she contracted and contracted, eventually discarding a white haired monster from her weakened frame)_ Vincent fell to the ground.

 _Lucrecia? No, but it's Cloud. What's going on?_ Tifa looked at him fearfully, tensed to dash into the house. He held her back.

"Do you hear that?" He asked her, voice even more gravelly than usual.

"He's in pain." She struggled to get through the bushes, to the large shell shaped house, warm ocher eyes blown wide with panic and worry. Vincent shook his head.

"It's the sound of someone going into labor." Another scream followed.

"But Cloud isn't fema-" she was cut off by another scream, wincing as realization fell over her. They'd both been there with Cloud when that demon, that silver haired monster had revealed a twisted and warped version of the truth ( _the power to change one's looks and form)_ they both blanched, Nanaki shaking his head.

"Well fuck damnit. Poor sops probably broken down even more now- this Could be why the fucker left. Never wants to be a goddamn reason for someone else's worry, always gotta be a fucking shit headed hero and not let anyone fucking help him." Cid ranted, an unlit cigarette bobbing in his mouth as he talked. Vincent turned back to the house. The sounds were dying down. He summed up his courage. Time to enter the city and finally make their way to that house. He signaled across to Yuffie. It was time.

It was pain like nothing he'd ever felt. It was hot and stabbing yet dull and achy and it hurt everywhere. It was agony, hot knifes and coal and pins and pressure. Oh gods the pressure. He felt like his hips were breaking, like he was exploding from his lower regions, and it was horrible all consuming pain.

" _Shhh. It's alright, it will be over soon and we'll be together."_ The voice assured him.

"Ma-" he began, but cut off with a hiss as the pain increased unbelievably.

"Push. It'll end sooner if you push." A female voice said gently, and he struggled to comprehend around the pain. Cold fingers brushed his stomach, soothing the pain to a tolerable degree.

 _"Do as she says. You want to see me, don't you?"_ The voice again. He pushed. He pushed as hard as he could. And he breathed. In in, out out, in in out out.

" _Here."_ A different female voice exclaimed. _"I have a bit more experience with this-"_ she did something that caused a numbness in the areas where the worst of the pain was.

" _We're all aware_ you _do." His_ voice spoke to _hers_ with a resonating chuckle.

" _Her contractions were worse."_ The female ignored the male voice, speaking instead to the blonde.

 _Lucrecia's?_ He thought at the presence behind the female voice.

 _"Yes."_ She replied _. "Hers were terrible."_

 _"Please don't mention that ... Child abanondoning wench."_ The male voice hissed.

 _"I personally liked her. Can't blame her for her fear- she did see what you were going to be when she gave birth. Fear is a very powerful thing." She_ stated. The man growled.

 _"If you don't stop talking about_ her _, I'm going to treat you the same way." He_ sounded very condescending as he growled this.

Cloud ignored their fighting, focusing on breathing and pushing. In in, out out. Finally, the pain stopped all together. He felt Hel remove the child, unaware that a second one remained on the table, until she put its wriggling form on his chest, walking away with the other.

He lay like that, cradling the baby in confusion for a good few minutes. Soon the man's presence could be felt at full force- however something was wrong. Someone... Several someones were present in his room.

"Cloud! We've found you!" Was that... Tifa?

"Are you ok? Are you hurt? Who's child is it?" Vincent cringed as both dark haired girls began poking and prodding. It was obvious who the father was, wasn't it. He saw Tifa blanch at the child's silvery colored hair.

"Cloud...?" She pressed, sounding worried and angry. She reached over.

"Go away!" He yelled, holding the wriggling bundle of pink against himself. "Go away go away." The hand not holding his baby clutched his head in pain. Vincent felt his heart falter and break. Cloud was acting... Very suspiciously.

"Tifa-" he rumbled, "stop." He didn't have to explain what was already obvious. She relaxed her shoulders and sighed.

"What's wrong with you? Having a child with a monster that way? Do you like everything he done to you? All the people he's killed just so he could hurt you?" She turned sighing.

"No. Shut up. Shutup! He's not a monster-" Cloud frantically shook his head, "no. Master isn't a monster- he's not!" The blonde screamed.

"Cloud?!" Tifa looked about to faint.

"You spiky headed ass! Letting him do this o you all the time!"

"He's never really had a choice." A familiar voice rang out. Vincent cocked Deathpenalty, more than prepared for a fight.

"What did you do to him?" Tifa yelled, angry and worried and freaked out. "You psychotic bastard! What did you do?" She dashed forward to punch the demon, only to fall flat on her face as he calmly sidestepped.

"I've done nothing. He's merely... Chosen to return to where he rightfully belongs." The man turned to the blonde. "Isn't that right, Cloud?" The blonde immediately nodded response.

"I want them to leave." The blonde said pouting.

"I know." The man said, so gentle and understanding- it had to be an act. "Valentine, would you kindly not point that at me? Someone could wind up hurt." He smiled smugly.

"Then hopefully it'll be you." Vincent snarled, finger gripping the trigger tightly. His knuckles were turning white. He growled as the silver demon merely smirked knowingly. He was just beginning to pull the trigger, aim perfectly at the man's heart- then something shoved him from behind. The trigger was already pulled, the bullet zoomed forward, but because of the sudden force that had shoved him, it wasn't his original target who was hit. Vincent gasped in shock as blood pooled from Tifa's head. With a sickening this, her body fell to the ground, a crunching sound foretelling the damage to her neck, her eyes glazed and empty. Vincent stared numbly. The force that had pushed him moved, revealing itself to be Cloud, who now had a huge mania induced smile, and was running across the room, into the already open arms of the monster.

"Tifa!" Barret yelled, panic over taking his sense. The man fired off the machine gun on his arm, aiming it at the blonde and the silver haired menace. "You little cunt! She's dead! She's dead you spiky ass! And it's your fault."

Yuffie was sobbing uncontrollably. Cait had shut down- Reeve likely crying in front of his monitor. And the two of them just stood there, calm, casting barrier against the bullets and leaving. The team broke down at tere departure.

His stomach was still rolling a bit from the man's quick flight, but it didn't matter. He clutched their daughter tightly enough not to drop her, but not enough to hurt her, as he finally sat. He was exhausted.

"I'm very proud of you." The man whispered in the blonde's ear. "You did good today pet." Gloved fingers were stroking his cheek.

Cloud beamed at the praise.

"I didn't want them to take me away again." The blonde said, leaning back against the man's chest as he let the man lift and pull him onto his lap. This earned him a very heated kiss, and the baby was telekinetically lifted away into a crib. The tall man unzipped Cloud's pants, fingers digging around to find what was there, and as the man touched it, the blonde felt the female parts return to what had been there- it was a shocking relief yet a strange burden, his male anatomy feeling strangely heavy after months without it.

It didn't matter much after a while, as the man began to stroke up and down, causing a buildup of pressure and hardness. The blonde moaned, arching up into the man's touch. Cold lips bit and sucked and licked at the blonde's neck, a lump forming very obviously under him as he sat. The man's fingers gripped tighter, pumping faster, and suddenly they stopped. The blonde prepared to get up, aware of what came next as the man kisses him and stood. Cloud knelt on the ground as the man unzipped, his full length out in open view, and after admiring it or a good while, he parted his mouth and wrapped it around the warm flesh. Gloves fingers twisted in his hair, guiding his mouth down the heated length, as he flicked his tongue around and sucked as hard as he could, throwing his soul into the action.

 _"Harder."_ Sephiroth commanded, thrusting deeper down. The blonde obliged, sucking and licking and biting until the man pulled out, and stripped him slowly. He could feel blush rising in his cheeks, pink and flattering as it sculpted his freckle littered cheek bones, his chest suddenly cold- which caused his nipples to stand out, pink and hard and dark. The man gazed at him with lazy satisfaction, murky green eyes glowing with a possessive heat that threatened to devour him, dark lips cruelly and beautifully twisted into a smirk as he lowered down, not bothering to prepare the blonde, and shoved everything in at once. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to earlier. Those dark lips claimed his own roughly, biting, drawing blood as the tall entity pulled out halfway way, beginning to thrust. He found a jagged and very fast pace, and the blonde moaned with each thrust, his erection firmly held between the friction of their abdomens, as the man bit and kissed and fucked him, long hair spilling over like a curtain of moonlight. The man's thrusts began to hit deeper and deeper, the blonde sweating mildly from the exertion as he bucked up to meet each new thrust with vigor. The man's pace grew deeper, more erratic, and Cloud could feel he was close. He held back as long as he could, waiting.

"Go ahead." The demon growled ferally as he continued to go faster and harder. So he did. The blonde spewed violently as the man erupted warmly inside of him, riding out the effect, until finally, both relaxed down an fell asleep. Well, after feeding the baby.


	2. Lollipop angst

A/N... Name basically says it all.

SxC because ... Well... I like it XD

Despite his decision to remain a spirit until he had a decent amount of cells to regenerate back to full power, there were times when Sephiroth began to wish he'd used that semicorporeal body, rather than create the basically useless remnants to occupy it. Moments such as this, where his formless invisible ghost trailed along behind a certain blonde. He'd spread the stigma far enough, those three (while useless) were getting somewhere, and Cloud had finally realized somewhere in his thick skull that the disease and the three imbeciles were his doing. It pleased him to know that the blonde was bound to him strongly enough through those broken strings to feel the connection there. He was also very intrigued by the blonde's interaction with the brunette boy that his misguided little blonde was taking care of. Mentally, he added Denzel to the bank of people getting too close to _his_ Cloud, and decided his death would be slow and agonizing. How perfect that the boy was one of his infected ones. That however, wasn't why he was paying so much attention to the conversation. It was because the worthless child gave his not so subtle favorite a lollipop. Not one of those flimsy circular ones he'd often seen children eating before he'd left Shin-ra. It was one of those rainbow colored ones made to look like a unicorn horn, which (whether as a joke or by accident) looked more like the not so innocent side of male anatomy. He wasn't aware whether the child was innocent in that subject or not, but the urge to strangle and or stab him was overwhelming. So was the sudden intrigue at the sight of Cloud placing the tip of the sugary rainbow in his pink mouth, innocently smiling at the child. He'd seen Cloud (and Zack for that matter) eat plenty of candy (both during Nibelheim and before hand) to know the full extent of his blonde's sweet tooth. This, however, was an entirely new branch of exciting and intriguing. He'd never seen Cloud with a lollipop... Or anything meant to be sucked on (Zack at the time being convinced that he'd take advantage of the blonde if given a reason had stolen any candy that was even remotely phallic. Back then, Sephiroth thought it was worthless and a waste of time, as the blonde was very obviously like a younger brother to them both, and he'd honestly never seen the appeal of sex. Now however, as he watched the blonde thank the boy and return to the church (where he took a while to follow, as he had to pause to mentally force that Cetra distraction's barrier against him open) with the lollipop still intact, he felt almost grateful to the child.) Perhaps he'd let that one live. He wished once again for a body, knowing that in order to even read the blonde's mind he'd have to directly possess a piece of the boy himself as he had no cells from which to channel the control. He flew closer, deciding that the sensory part of the brain was the perfect area. He could directly control the blonde's hallucinations and still whisper thoughts to him, while using the blonde's altered DNA to control objects telekinetically. He slipped in, finding easy passage to his prize. The blonde obviously felt him enter and froze.

 _Get out of my head!_

 _ **Don't resist.**_ He commanded, now having access to the full extent of the powers the blonde refused to use. Cloud struggled mentally to fight back against the order, but the control took over, telling him he shouldn't, and he stopped.

 _ **Good boy.**_ He purred into the blonde's mind, gently easing his thoughts with a mental caress of comforting words.

 _What are you doing?_ The blonde asked with sedate curiosity.

 _ **Something you should enjoy just as much as I will.**_ He said, allowing the blonde to distract himself by pondering the words.

Using telekinesis (and oh did it feel so perfect to be able to do even this much again) he pulled the blonde's arms into the vest, and removed it, then moving those arms behind the blonde and unraveling the bandage covering the stigma so he could tie the twenty three year old's wrists together. The blonde mentally fidgeted then.

 _Seph, what the fuck are you doing?_ Came the panic laced thought.

 _ **Hush.**_ He then gave the blonde a hallucination of himself, the sight and sound and feel and smell of what it would be like if they kissed. Not gently. This was a territory marking kiss. All over the blonde's lips, neck, chest, and infected arm. He raised the lollipop back into the blonde's mouth, changing the hallucination to what _he_ wanted out of it now that he could feel the tingling in the blonde's lower region. He shut off sensation in that arm for the blonde, sending some of himself out to control it, as he watched the blonde suck on the lollipop enthusiastically. He took that arm, making the hand unzip the boys pants and pump up and down the endearingly small erection he found. The blonde slowly began moaning and panting. He pumped faster.

 _ **I told you you'd like it.**_

 _Shut up._

And with that, the blonde ejaculated in a hard, messy explosion of fluids.

 _ **When I get my body back, you'll be own your knees before you get a chance to say that. And that boy is going to die, most likely slowly.**_

 _Shut up! I can't believe you even stooped this low._

 _ **Mmmmm, you seemed to be enjoying yourself two seconds ago. Drop the act.**_

 _Go rot in a cave._

 _ **Why don't you go kill your barmaid then?**_

 _I hate you._

 _ **Don't lie puppet, that's a bad thing.**_

 _You're not my mom bastard. Don't tell me what not to do._

 _ **That's right, because she's**_ **dead** _**isn't she? And I have far more right to order you around than she ever did. You're**_ **mine.**

 _In your delusional psychopathic dreams._

 _ **Coming from one with your track record, that's not very meaningful.**_


	3. Challenge

A/N: A bunch of oneshots coming up. I've been looking at horror and tragedy prompt on pinterest, and I came up with a few different ideas than my usual spiel, but first, one more of pseudo normal MetaLucario spiel. Just angst, mentions of mindcontrol, and typical SephCloud interactions (i.e. Sephiroth being an asshole and Cloud being one right back.)

I don't own shit, even the prompt is stolen this time.

"You know, I never thought I know what it was like to be rid of you." he said, looking at the familiar sword, left erect- hilt up, amidst snow and shattered stone. Green glow from the planets core lazily drifting underneath the precipice.

" _I doubt you ever will, Cloud."_ A voice drifts, solely in the blondes head and heart and soul. He scoffs.

"Is that a challenge?" the young man whispers to the voice, sorceless wind from the increased pressure carrying his words away as he breathes. He inclines his head.

" _Only if you are willing to accept it. I'll prove my words to you each time you try again."_ The voice whispers, its tone like a thousand threads of silk caressing and enveloping the atmosphere around the man, his cerulean to cobalt eyes now held shut.

"Not interested." The blonde spoke softly. "How about you just stay dead." That prompted a deep chuckle from the voice, as it carried off.

" _Since it's you… perhaps I'll consider it. For a little while."_ The voice became pressure, inconsistent pressure that varied from painful to featherlight tracing around his head, a tender brush across his temples, a sharp tug on his hair, lips on the back of his skull. He found he couldn't move, not from lack of ability, but from the lack of a will to do so. There was no point, the sensation was naught but a hallucination. He couldn't run from it. The voice spoke again, words so smooth, so calculated and consuming. " _But then… You'd miss me, wouldn't you?"_

"In your dreams, Sephiroth." The blonde bit out. Sure, part of him would, that insignificant part that always bent to the man's wishes from a mixture of lingering hero worship and a large dose of alien DNa, but that didn't spell out everything that was Cloud. And thus the blonde rolled his eyes, the typical dealing in absolutes the other man did with him was his downfall. He didn't count on the ability to fight back in the slightest.

" _You of all people should know how convincing dreams can be."_ The voice continued, practically cooing. " _And how true. Eventually even the rest of you will come to be mine again."_

This prompted another eyeroll and a half forced 'Shut up.' but nothing more or less.

"So if that happens, you win. The challenge of who gives up first." The blonde states wistfully. "Maybe I will accept."

" _We both know how it will end."_

"With you erased from history?"

" _With you on your knees."_

"... Sure, whatever." The blonde scoffed and walked away. "Let the challenge begin."


	4. Chiaroscuro

A/N: As I will probably mention in the site summary, this is a character study based on art terms, because, well…. Art appreciation doesn't inspire me to draw as well as actual art classes did. And the terminology just clicked in my head with this idea. (Just sorta a plot bunny I need to move outta me way before I pick back up on Silence, then finally everything else.)

Terms used, and definitions:

(R)Value- Light or Darkness of a color

(T)Chiaroscuro- Illusion of depth

(Z)Vibrance- brightness (Not so much light, as extreme noticeability. like neon colors or hot pink)

(A)Etching- usually for printmaking (scratching the design faintly into a surface)

(C)Abstract- simplified and/or changed (usually in a way that makes it nearly unrecognisable and

looks more complex than it is from what I've noticed)

(S)Iconography- symbolism more or less.

disclaimer: If I owned shit, I wouldn't be a poor college student with no driver's license writing nerdy fanfiction for kicks and stress relief.

-PAGE_BREAK-

-A question of Value-

Rufus would never describe himself as a good person. He had too much blood on his hands to consider himself such. But he wasn't terrible or cruel either. At least, not anymore. Still, he knew he had been on the edge of the abyss for long enough, and it was time for him to atone for it- but it felt like everything he did went awry. He'd known the minute he'd seen the signs of that man's return that Cloud was the only hope there was. He'd known with certainty. What he hadn't counted on was the result. He wasn't naive like some of the blonde's friends could be, he'd been too chaotically hung in the balance between good and evil to be. Naivety would've been his downfall. He didn't know why they thought it'd be any different. He hadn't started running away immediately after their first journey afterall. And after the stigma incident, he'd kept it up for a while. He'd lasted for about a week after Vincent had dealt with the events of Deep Ground, though he'd been even moodier than usual, and oddly jumpy all the time. After that week, there had been episodes, and when he'd tried to pull his usual avoidance, they hadn't let him. One thing had lead to another, and before he knew it, he'd had to turn part of the old Shin-ra building into an Asylum built to hold what was currently the strongest human alive. Though, for how much longer he'd be able to consider Cloud human- Rufus hadn't the faintest idea. It was good he cared enough about helping bring the blonde back to sanity, but…. did that count when he was to blame for a lot of what brought it on?

-PB-

-The very meaning of Chiaroscuro-

"I'm sorry, but you can't see him." Rufus had told her. "I'm afraid he's really lost it this time, and we aren't sure that the cell can contain him. It's best you leave- with him like this, the rest of Avalanche will likely look to you as the leader, so try to at least put on airs and pretend to be strong for them." Pretend to be strong? Have I ever stopped pretending? Tifa thought. She'd never been as strong as the the others. At times, she was certain even Cloud was stronger (mentally and emotionally) than she was. She'd gotten over thinking he would be her knight in shining armor. Eradicated her naivety in clinging onto that ideal of having a hero. She'd seen the cracks in his armor finally, and she'd honestly begun to hate herself of all people. Of course Cloud wouldn't be comfortable with her in that way when she'd acted as she had. The others thought she'd been a deep well of strength and spirit, but she'd been so unbelievably shallow for years. Childhood friends, she had said, when she knew that she'd never noticed him when they were kids. Not until the well, where she'd naively decided to wait on his fame. She'd never stopped the rest of the village from thinking it was his fault she'd nearly died falling from that bridge. And even recently she'd been so childish "Am I really going to lose too a memory?" So insensitive. It wasn't like she'd ever resented Aerith. That bright smile, those kind forest pools that were her eyes… the woman was so impossible to hate. She missed her too. And while she knew it was equally childish of Cloud to blame himself and hang on that way… She'd been so shallow to say that. To handle things the way she did. Whatever strength, whatever depth she had was as much of an illusion as Sephiroth's sanity had been, and she knew it. She just hoped it wasn't too late to fix things.

-PB-

-The Vibrance of a ghost's smile-

He always kept it up. That cheeky persona, his cheesy grin. He was disheartened too, even if Aerith never noticed (as perceptive as she was though… he doubted she hadn't) that they couldn't reach his little spikehead anymore. And now was a time when he really needed them. He was strong, sure, but his paranoia was too strong. They'd thought it would be fine, but then, neither of them had counted on a handful of words affecting the blonde that much. Of course, Zack wasn't convinced that Cloud's hero worship for that man had dispersed at all. He'd seen it at its worst, and he knew it to be present even after meeting the man behind the legacy. He'd just kept up the brightness of his own smile, even when he noticed those piercing green eyes drinking in every bit of the admiration in his little buddy's sapphires with such a dark hunger. Even in moments when he'd prematurely seen the monster behind the man, he'd smiled through it, and know, even dead with the monster now being the man, with the world hanging in the balance and the last hope left reflecting the man that was the monster more than ever. He Smiled brightly at Aerith, cracking every joke he knew to prevent himself from cracking. Even in death, his cheeriness hadn't changed. He was just sad that he couldn't share it with Cloud anymore. Not with the literal green eyed monster horsing him away like that.

-PB-

-Etching patterns for the future-

She'd experimented a lot lately with her ability to affect the world of the living. Everyone was falling apart, so she did what she could to help. Especially with Tifa. She'd taken it the hardest. Of course, only her and Zack knew that Cloud's paranoia was correct and that Rufus, for all his good intents, was only making it worse. The isolation drove that paranoia to the brink, and the blonde's nearly non-existent sanity beyond it. Her only hope was to leave behind all the faint impressions she could leave. She knew Tifa had noticed her presence when she hugged her, knew the younger woman could hear her comforts. She knew Vincent had noticed, as had Nanaki. Both had nodded solemnly in understanding at her forlorn face. The others couldn't tell she was there. They noticed something she knew. She knew Cloud noticed, but, in his isolation, and with that man's effect slowly erasing her influence with the blonde, she hadn't been able to comfort him as much. But, she kept trying. Kept leaving faint echoes everywhere to avert the worst outcomes of the inevitable. The man was most definitely returning.

-PB-

-Abstract thoughts, scattering patterns of iconography-

He hadn't let it bother him at first, those words. He sometimes couldn't recall exactly what the man said- Was it "Never a memory" or was it "I'm so much more1" He couldn't remember. It wasn't so much those words though, as it was the whispers. They'd started again shortly after Vincent had started his own quest. At first, it was small things: "Cloud… your destination is the opposite way. You took the wrong turn." "I'm entirely certain that a burrito is not meant to be in a microwave for 5 minutes." "you made a wrong turn again Cloud." "That's not healthy… whatever that slop is." Eventually, it evolved. He didn't notice the change until the tsviets had attacked edge, he himself having to fight Rosso. "So, she is to Genesis as you are to me… I hope you realize you aren't allowed to lose to her. It would be highly embarrassing." "Your swing is off. I can't blame you though, when you haven't had a decent opponent in a year." "Let me take care of this one, we can build your strength back later, you have to survive first, don't you?" It was in that fight when he'd realized just how the man had managed to maintain his hold after death this time through. He'd known the strange sensation of foreign thoughts mingling with and guiding his own, had known the feeling of the man's mind caressing his and controlling it. This was different. He was the backseat in his own body, there were attacks thrown that he knew weren't his own. They were his and they were almost more familiar to Cloud than his own moves were. the style was cleaner, yet more brutal, the strikes so much more efficient. He could feel that familiar presence, but it hadn't really left since their last standoff. It was so clear now, what was going on. He was literally hosting his worst enemy, the one who so many years ago he would've done anything for and whom now, he feared as much as he should despise. It grew worse, but he hid it well. The man had possessed his body the same way a few days later as he'd gotten out of the shower, but it was only partial this time. He couldn't feel the left side of his body, and the eye on that side… He'd seen it aqua with slightly larger slit pupils than the man's….But this eye wasn't one of his. It was actually Sephiroth's eye, to the fluctuation of the pale greens. He'd flinched as that side of his mouth had curled into the man's signature smirk, his left hand (that he still couldn't feel) caressing his right cheek so tenderly. Almost, but not quite, lovingly that hand trailed down his chin, jaw and neck, and lower, across his chest to that all too familiar scar in his shoulder. He could see his right eye, the one that was still his, switch to the other pair of eyes he had. That slightly darker, slightly bluer green (than those poison eyes that were ingrained in his memory) hue, pupil's longer, sharper than normal, but not quite the same as that man's, that monster's eyes. He shuddered, in fear and need. He knew his eyes, what it meant when that jade color replaced sapphire. He knew what part what side of himself those eyes belonged to. He knew who that side itself belonged to. His shoulder throbbed under that touch, so familiar and how could the man ever think he'd forget pain so terrible, so agonizing as that? He simply couldn't. The hand trailed back to his lips, his own hand that wasn't his at the moment. His own thumb parted his lips so gently, so carefully, brushing itself along the bottom. That poison colored eye in the mirror showed him everything that those eyes always showed him. Possessiveness, Smugness, Cruelty… he lost control of his other hand as well, that one brushing lower, much lower than necessary, and a need sparked. He looked back to that eye, the lust so far back he had to dig to find it, and he knew it was there. "Mine." The voice began. The hands that were no longer his continued, the left now brushing his tongue, the right already pumping along his groin and he began to shake for an entirely different reason. Tears found their way out of the eye that was still his even as his hips bucked into his own hand. He vaguely noticed a feeling like so many kisses trailing down his neck, and along his mind if that even could begin to describe the feeling in his head. It was as if the man had wrapped around his thoughts like a blanket, tenderly as he'd caressed Cloud with the blonde's own hand, the man now mentally kissed away any struggles, caressing thoughts he wanted, but only in regards to his current actions. It was only a few minutes later, when Cloud felt close to release, that the hand relented, squeezing, not allowing it. That was when his sanity had finally cracked. "Beg." That voice had commanded sternly, and grudgingly, to his own embarrassment, he had. And when the man continued, and he finally spurt all over the floor and passed out, the last thing he'd heard was that infernal voice whispering once more. "Good boy." It had cooed. It wasn't much longer until he'd tried to run, he had to kill himself before the man broke him, or the entire world was done. Instead, he'd ended up branded as a lunatic and thrown in a cell with Rufus keeping an eye on him (as the other blonde had put it.) When he'd tried to explain, Rufus had looked at him in concern and deemed him unstable. He'd over heard the shrink refer to him as a 51-50, and so his cell was padded, and he couldn't talk to anyone except that stupid voice that he hatedloved more than he ever should, more and more each day as his isolation in the padded cell dragged on. And suddenly, he just broke. Snapped. He stared dully ahead, barely nodding at that voice, curling in on himself and suddenly his isolation was over. He was still kept in the cell, but the nurses were allowed to talk to him. But the damage had already been done. They were nothing. At least, the voice told him so. One nurse was a little more eccentric than the others, and when Rufus and the Shrink were gone one day had tried some unorthodox methods. She'd undone the precautionary cuffs on his hands, after stripping him, but before she could even touch him, it happened again. His own hands snapped up and strangled her until she flopped to his feet, dead. His own body moving around, breaking the cell doors open with brute force that he'd never had. Rufus had arrived just in time to see the corpse and to see the not quite Cloud fuming at him with eyes that certainly weren't Cloud. Clearly the other blonde knew what happened from the look in his eyes.

"I was wrong?" The white-clad blonde asked in shock. Cloud felt his lips move, but not with his own words.

"The fact that you doubted Cloud was bad enough, wasn't it, Rufus?" The figure using his body sauntered forward. "He's always been smarter than any of you." The blonde could feel those hands trail gently along his face. "He's always been better. None of you deserve him, none of you ever have." The hand that should be his brushed along his chin, and Rufus stepped back in fear.

"What gives you the right to decide that?" Rufus counters, angry and afraid. The hand pauses.

"Do you even need to ask why something of mine is above you and your pathetic kind?" The voice controlling his lips continues. The hand that had been caressing him balls into a fist. "Why my beloved, why my favorite" Cloud could feel his heart skip a beat at those words, but no longer really cared. "Is better?" The fist flew out and that familiar sword in all its terrible glory appeared with in it. A chuckle filled the air as the tip of the blade reached Rufus' neck, sliding down and summoning a slight trickle of dark crimson. With a flash, more crimson followed, as the former president's decapitated head fell to the floor with a sickening thud. In a flash of light, the sword dispersed, the hand once again trailing his own jaw. "Mine." the voice breathes, the echo filling the empty (aside from the corpses) room "only mine forever."


	5. Theatrical flare for death

**A/N: well, first things first:** _TRIGGER WARNING._ **This fanfic has; self harm, violence, attempted and mentioned suicuide, homosexual relationships, dark themes and very dark humor.**

 **I don't own anything, I'm just a nerdy girl writing strange things because they take up residence in my extremely fucked up brain, and this is a way to calm the rabid plot bunnies. So, with that said, enjoy or hate the story if you dare ^.^**

He wondered sometimes why he always ran. Avoiding them. Everyone. His friends. His _family_ (as they'd wanted to be for quite a while after what happened during their original journey to defeat that man.) he didn't know why. Of course, it had been better for a brief period of time following Advent day. He'd gone back to the bar, and Denzel had been so very happy- Marlene had smiled knowingly as he walked through the doors with them. He'd attempted to let go of the past. He still visited the church every now and then, to care for the flowers mostly. Aerith's presence was no longer felt within the light dappled chapel, just the overbearing smell of the lilies, and a pervading emptiness of the now too large building. When he returned from those trips, eyes teary and fogged with grief, he'd lock himself in his room until Tifa came to comfort him. He'd pretended it helped, pretended he wasn't wishing it was _her_ instead when the dark haired woman embraced him. And eventually, he'd stopped pretending, telling her it wasn't working. He couldn't love her like she deserved. That was a while ago. Last time he'd checked up with her, she'd been engaged to Barret. He was happy for them, if nothing else.

Yet, Aerith's presence wasn't the only thing that seemed to be missing. He'd moved away, living a hermit life with Vincent. Neither felt satisfied any longer. Not with society, with life. Whenever the emptiness and the pain got too hard to deal with, they'd find a place somewhat private to chase it away. There was no love between them of that kind, it was merely two friends searching for temporary relief from feeling something missing. And when Vincent pulled away each time, naked form revealed in an intimate understanding, hands deftly undoing the bindings and helping him up, he'd feel less numb for a peaceful few minutes. Other days, when they were separate for any period of time, he'd kill the numbness other ways. Vincent never commented or tried to stop it, merely nodding at the still bleeding cuts with a silent understanding as he carefully bandaged the blonde's arms.

Those were the less hectic days. Somedays he'd leave Vincent for a while to go visit the Church, or the Cliff. Other days, he'd go to the other side of his grief- visiting such places as the ruins of the temple, and the basement of the mansion, or even moments when he'd get his chocobo from the ranch and go all the way north to the crater. This was one such day, and his guilty grieving awkwardness over the conflicting emotions choked him up more than usual. He was in the mansion. Vincent was halfway across the planet right now- Cid and Shera wanting him there for the last few months of her pregnancy.

It was strange to be home, if he could really call it that anymore. The employees hired to replace the villagers had all left, and the rebuilt shell of the village felt oddly empty. It somehow only steeled his resolve. No one to stop him, just ghosts to traumatized to even roam anymore. A thought crossed his mind... Wouldn't it be poetic justice for him to die here? The town where he was born. The town where one friend who was a hero went mad. The town where the other friend had to rescue him from crazy, sadistic scientists, and became his new hero. The town where everything wrong with his life started, where everything good came to an end. The place where he was ostracized for being different. "Home". He had the rope prepared. Had a chair, had everything. And he intended to do whatever he had to do to ensure his actual death. He knew it would take longer for himself than most, his body turned into something different than he'd been all those years ago, innocently roaming the streets of this very town. And today was the anniversary of 16 years ago. Because that's how long it had been. Sixteen years since his sixteen year old self had witnessed the fire and the madness and the destruction brought on by the one he'd looked up to more than anyone. Sixteen years since his last day being a normal person. Sixteen years since that man took everything, killed it, destroyed it, removed it. He could almost see the burning orange glow of the flames, could almost see Zack (seemingly so alive and full of energy despite the horror and confusion that lit his usually bubbly face,) could see _him_ standing there with his pale hair (so immaculate and smooth through all its extensive length,) he could see _his_ smirk. So full of contempt and smug glory, eyes glowing with such an ethereal light as he looked down at everything so far beneath him. Cloud closed his eyes, wishing the terrible memory away. He would do this. Right now. And these flashbacks that only brought pain and horror would end with him.

Maybe it was nostalgia that brought the red head here. It was a town he'd only really seen once- and he'd still been the 'bad guy' in the eyes of those who knew him. Maybe he felt guilty somewhere deep inside himself. After Deepground he'd gotten his broken self image patched up once more- still not quite sane, but less destructive and manic than before. That was apparently Sephiroth's gig now. Speaking of his former rival, his sudden arrival at this place must have something to do with the fact that the 'great hero' himself was currently residing in his head. Oh, he'd done his research. He'd cast his beloved loveless aside to figure out exactly what the man had done to that one blonde he remembered seeing with the two of them, his friend and the stupid puppy. He paused, wondering how it was for the blonde boy to see Zack die. Maybe it was his fault for appearing dead that day- if he'd gone with them maybe he'd be the one left behind on the battlefield. Not that he thought it would fix much. He knew the demon that was his second oldest friend, he knew that the man would go after both of them, and the blonde would likely be no better off. Sephiroth was stubborn in that way. He supposed that was his fault too. The man would be less possessive and manipulative if he hadn't revived the former hero's abandonment issues. Genesis sighed.

 _"_ _ **Can you sense it?"**_ That too smug, too contemptuous voice chided at him.

He could sense an ominous pervasive sense of death. Danger, death, and... The blonde kid?

 _ **"If he dies, that's one more splash of blood on your conscience."**_

"Let the kid have his break." He said derisively, implying so much more than he'd said.

 _ **"So death is a break? If so, it's not one he's allowed. If you don't stop him... Well you know what that snake did to Weiss."**_

"The fates really are cruel." He muttered sighing. "Very well, I'll let you deal with him your way. It's worked so brilliantly in the past."

 _ **"Shut up."**_

Genesis laughed.

"Apparently the influence goes both ways." He don't know why, but it was the most entertaining thought he'd had in a long time.

He woke to something that felt very much like life. He knew what death felt like. He'd been dead for a matter of seconds after those three had shot him on advent day. Why didn't Aerith keep him then? And why was he alive now?

"Oh- he wakes." A vaguely familiar voice. Memories of foggy days glazed over with green... And Zack. His vision was a jumbled blur of various shades of red. And a familiar presence behind it.

"Why am I here?" It was in a resigned and very tired voice that he finally spoke. His throat was sore- but less than it should be. Stupid scientists. Stupid cure magic.

"Well... I thought suicide was a foolish idea. Someone else just ... Forced my hand."

"I... Know." He could sense that presence. It called to him to ignore all else. He chose to ignore it instead.

 _ **"I'm very disappointed with you, Cloud."**_ The man's voice chided in his head. _**"Haven't you learned by now that you aren't allowed to die? I can't have that."**_

 _I don't care._ He thought at the voice. Yet, there was that tugging in the back of his head that identified the cure, the thing to fill that sudden emptiness. _I want to. You don't choose for me._

 _ **"Hmmm? That's a lie, and you know it as much as I."**_

"He's a bit demanding isn't he?" The redhead asked knowingly.

 _ **"Ignore him."**_ The voice demanded in annoyance and frustration. He tried not to, but the urge was too great. And he really couldn't bring himself to care, so he drowned the strange man out. _**"You only need me."**_

 _I don't believe that. I don't believe you._ He thought at that voice, feeling the presence behind it wrap around his skull in a punishing vice of pressure. Pressure and pain.

 _ **"You don't have to believe something you know, now do you?**_ " The voice chided. " _ **Now return."**_

 _No. No you can't make me. You can't you can't._ He repeated in his head, some holy mantra of denial that would protect him from the controlling presence he felt so strongly around, inside, _through_ him, gripping his mind, his heart, his very _soul_ in an inescapable vice of a siren call of manipulation. It felt exhilarating and terrifying and unwelcome. It was bad. That cruel, evil, wicked force of corrosion, that foreign willpower threatening to overtake him was something he had to fight. He had to even if he could feel the need to... He didn't need to listen. It was that man's evil voice, that siren call that pulled him back time and time again, that told him nothing else mattered aside from itself and its commands as it wrapped around him so imperious and demanding and ... And he couldn't bring himself to fight it as the man's voice caressed him so gently.

 _ **"I can, and I will. I will not allow you to..."**_ Cloud thought the voice choked a bit on his words, something that had to be said causing the ghost of that man to fill up with a conflicting load of anger and sorrow and confusion. _**"I will not allow you to die on me. You cannot leave, ever."**_ The man's usual smug and possessive tone was lined with accusation and pain. With _caring._ Despite how twisted and warped that care was, he felt guilty. Guilty and giddy that the man even cared at all. And disgusted with himself for feeling so happy because of that (not as repulsed as he should be, but the disgust was there) man's show of care, of acknowledgement. The voice crooned at his thoughts, encouraging and discouraging them as he pleased. He waited long enough to come to his senses and force the voice to the very back of his mind.

"Someone got better at resisting." The red-clad man spoke.

"How would you know? The only thing you know about me is that I was their replacement for you." The blonde said, his tone unnecessarily bitter.

 _ **"Should've replaced him sooner. I like you more."**_

"Shut up, Sephiroth." Cloud muttered under his breath. Genesis (apparently able to hear the telepathic conversation he was not actually involved in) mocked offense at his former friend/rival's words.

 _ **"Why should I? It's true."**_

"It's also true that the kid hates you Seph. Maybe he'd like to replace you the same way." The smooth higher voice continued indignantly, still sore over the idea that he was replaceable. The redhead muttered Loveless quotes to himself with theatrical, dramatic flare. Cloud snorted in derision.

"If I could replace every melodramatic psychopath I know with Aerith, I'd still be haunted by one of you assholes somehow." He leaned against the wall, already accepting that any plans for self-strangulation were forfeit for the time being.

"Haunting people sounds fun... Though, I doubt the other "melodramatic asshole," as you've dubbed us, present, would deign to describe the enjoyment received from such to me, and would merely mock you with it." Genesis sighed dramatically. "And he wonders why you hate your life. So incompetent at deciphering emotions, even as intelligent as he is."

" _ **Cloud… your signature line would be perfect here."**_

"...not interested."

" _ **the other one."**_

"Not my problem?" the blonde asked with a grimly amused smile. "Don't really care? ...Sorry? You should be more specific."

"Ah, and he taunts you back. It's perfect isn't it." The redhead states smugly.

" _ **Hmn. But I still got what I wanted, he's given up on death for now."**_

"Once you leave, I'll be at it again, I assure you."

" _ **What if I don't leave?"**_

"Then I kill you as well."

" _ **I'm already dead, Cloud."**_

"Good. Stay that way, less work for me." Cloud snarked.

"It's not like that's ever stopped him before." Genesis commented. There was a snort. Then a chuckle.

" _ **Are**_ **you** _**telling**_ **me** _ **what to do**_ **Cloud?** _**How adorable."**_

 _Oh shut up._ Cloud thought at him.

" _ **Of course you say that**_ **now."**


End file.
